


mirror mirror

by aozu



Category: Ace of Diamond THE LIVE RPF, Japanese Actor RPF, ダイヤのA | Daiya no A | Ace of Diamond
Genre: Celebrity Crush, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:22:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aozu/pseuds/aozu
Summary: One where Furuya watches Daiya stage and is a big fan of Wada Takuma. Miyuki has mixed feelings about this.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I’m embarrassed for myself, oh god why did I write this

It’s a lazy Sunday when Miyuki finds Furuya watching some kind of video in the briefing room alone. It would be less dubious if Furuya actually turned the lights on—which the other didn’t, so Miyuki squints at the television screen from the doorway, curious about what the younger is watching. It’s some sort of a baseball match; Miyuki recognises baseball uniforms and the various calls in a game, but it’s _not_ a baseball game. Instead it has a couple of people, players (?) on a stage with an audience watching with rapt attention.

“What’s this?” he asks before he can stop himself, and Furuya turns, obviously surprised at his entrance.

“Miyuki-senpai,” Furuya greets slowly, fumbling with the remote to pause the show. “It’s a…stage play.”

“A play?” Miyuki blinks, stepping inside the room to see the screen better. “Oh. I didn’t know you were into this kind of thing.”

“It’s about baseball,” Furuya replies, as though that’s all the reason he needs.

“Huh,” Miyuki replies eyeing the screen. “Why are you watching it in the dark? And alone, too.”

“…It’s too hot outside.”

“That’s not really what I asked,” Miyuki says in return, sighing. “How long more does this last? I want to watch last week’s match with Ichidaisan, there’s something about Amahisa’s slider that bugs me.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

“Remote,” Miyuki holds out his hand, and Furuya reluctantly puts it into his palm. “You’ve got about halfway more…so….slightly over an hour…” he squints at the screen. “It’ll be dinner time by then…” he hums.

Miyuki kind of wants to insist his way—senior privilege and that he’s technically doing useful ‘research’—but Furuya just sits quietly next to him and he feels bad that he’s interrupting whatever Furuya first started, so he sighs and gives the remote back.

“I’ll watch my stuff later, I guess,” he says.

Furuya takes the remote back quickly in an almost protective gesture; Miyuki blinks at it, but otherwise says nothing as the younger fiddles with it again to continue playing the video. Miyuki doesn’t _intend_ to stay—but Furuya’s right, it’s immensely hot outside and the briefing room is dark and cool and they’re watching _something_ like baseball; it can’t be too bad, he reasons. Besides, he has nothing else to do.

The show is a lot better than he expects.

It’s a classic shounen plot, about a loud pitcher who gets scouted to a Tokyo powerhouse highschool team and aims to be the ace. There’s a rival, of course, another first year pitcher who throws a mean fastball, and a catcher who seems to be able to read everything from one glance. It kind of really reminds Miyuki of their own team—they have their obnoxious resident pitcher and Furuya who specialises in fastballs, not to mention, well, _he’s_ a pretty good catcher if he does say so himself. There’s also a senior who hurt his shoulder, a shortstop who laughs in a weird, high pitched way, brothers who are just as elusive as ever; the list goes on.

Maybe because it’s so similar to their own highschool baseball experience that Miyuki ends up being more invested in it than he should—his eyes damp up when it’s time for the coach to decide who gets in first string and leaves a whole bunch of third years crying in disappointment.

Beside him, Furuya watches everything with unwavering attention with his hands closed tight around the remote at his chest. In particular, whenever the first string second year catcher comes on, Furuya sits upright, fingers minutely trembling together with his eyes bright, even under the dim lighting conditions they’re watching the show in.

At the end of it all, the actors come back on stage to give their speeches and Miyuki idly muses as they talk—the rival monster rookie of the show kind of _really_ looks like Furuya, tall, black haired and stoic and oh, the way he stands with his hands together and gives the pleased floaty expression when he bows, much to the delight of the audience. And the catcher—glasses, cap sideways, the _grin_ ; Miyuki’s a little weirded out that he does that too.

When the credits roll, Furuya takes the disc out of the player and carefully keeps it in its box. Miyuki goes to turn on the lights because he wants to read the box cover.

_Ace of Diamond THE LIVE_

Huh.

“So, did you like it?” Miyuki absentmindedly asks in casual conversation.

It’s easy to see that Furuya did, not only from the way he nods, but also from the way he stares intently at the pamphlet that was inside the box. Miyuki peers over to see the pitcher staring at a photo of the catcher in catcher gear, kneeling on the ground.

 _Wada Takuma_ , it reads at the bottom.

Miyuki grins. “Come on, he’s your favourite only because he’s the catcher.”

“He’s very reliable,” Furuya says in reply, still looking at the picture. “What about you, Miyuki-senpai?”

“Me?”

“Did you enjoy the show?”

Miyuki eases a wry smile. “…I guess,” he shrugs after a while. “It’s a little unrealistic though. I mean, that fastball pitcher, he literally moved _prefectures_ to meet the catcher. Who would do that for someone they just read about _once_ in a magazine?”

Furuya makes no reply at his comment, so he continues. “Also, I wish training you pitchers were _that_ easy.”

Furuya makes some sort of an offended pout, and Miyuki laughs.

“…I’m better.”

“Than that monster pitcher?” Miyuki raises an eyebrow, grinning. “He seems to have more stamina than you do. And he listens to his catcher, unlike you.”

The younger looks away, eyebrows knitted together. “I do listen to you.”

“Oh, really?” Miyuki hides his grin. “Are you going to watch the Ichidaisan match with me later? Because you need to watch how Amashisa throws his breaking balls.”

Furuya’s lips press into a line, clearly reluctant.

“See, you’re ignoring me again,” Miyuki snorts.

“I want to pitch.”

“I’m not going to catch it tonight,” Miyuki sings, turning on his heel. “Come on, it’s time for dinner.”

“Miyuki-senpai, I want to pitch,” Furuya repeats after his back, and Miyuki rolls his eyes fondly, shaking his head as they leave the briefing room.

* * *

Miyuki doesn’t think much about the play over the next few months. It was a good production, he enjoyed it, but ultimately he’s not the sort of person who gets into much things; except actual baseball, of course. Moreover, he’s more pre-occupied that their team underwent massive changes with the graduation of the third years, him being saddled with the position of _captain_ , learning that their coach wanted to quit, and then crawling their way through the invitationals to win a spot at Spring Koshien.  The stage play is really not on the top of his list to muse about.

He’s, therefore, mildly (very) surprised when Furuya approaches him one night and does not ask him to catch his pitch. Instead, it’s an invitation to watch the _sequel_ to the play. _Ace of Diamond THE LIVE II_ , or something.

“Uh, do you realise we start Senbatsu the week after, right?” Miyuki states, hand on his hip. “You sure you can take the time off?”

“Wasn’t Miyuki-senpai the one who said I shouldn’t push myself too hard before the first match?”

Miyuki huffs. “Don’t talk back to your senpai,” he says because he _did_ say that, damn it. He sighs. “When is it? Where is it?”

“Thursday evening,” Furuya recites from the tickets he’s holding. “Tokyo Galaxy Theatre.”

They don’t have official training that day, but they could always do light conditioning. Also, it’s about an hour by train to get to Shinagawa; there’s just so much hassle about travelling far.

“Why are you asking me?” Miyuki tries in a last ditch attempt to squeeze his way out of this. “Don’t you have other friends you can ask?”

It only hits Miyuki that it’s a terrible thing to say after he says it. Furuya looks at his shoes, shuffling his feet.

“…I thought Miyuki-senpai wouldn’t mind…because senpai watched the first one with me…” the other mumbles quietly.

Miyuki closes his eyes briefly, unable to take Furuya’s obviously depressed demeanour. “Okay, fine, I’ll come. Why did you buy _two_ tickets before asking me, anyway?”

“I didn’t. It was a present from my parents.”

“Oh,” Miyuki blinks. “So it’s free?”

Furuya nods.

“God, I sound so cheapskate,” Miyuki mutters, scratching the back of his neck. “Okay. _Okay_. Let’s go together. I don’t want you to get lost on your way there or back. Rei-chan will kill me.”

“Thank you, Miyuki-senpai,” Furuya bows, eyes lighting up.

Miyuki pats him on the shoulder before grinning. “In exchange,” he starts, “You have two weeks to sharpen your forkball.”

* * *

The train ride is just as confusing as Miyuki expects, needing to change trains about three or four times. He’s sort of glad he’s not on this journey alone, because even if Furuya isn’t the best at taking lead for directions, the other at least useful with the map. When they finally get to the theatre, they nearly get separated thanks to the massive crowd—holy shit there’re just so many people, and…all of them are _girls_.

Miyuki self-consciously adjusts his collar next to Furuya who looks completely unperturbed that everyone is staring at them two sticking out like sore thumbs.

“…is that cosplay?” Miyuki hears someone whisper— _what_ _cosplay?_ —but the crowd is too thick for him to pinpoint who said that.

There’s an announcement which tells them that the doors are opening and Miyuki grabs Furuya’s wrist to pull him to the correct line because the other is lagging behind, distracted by the architecture of the theatre. When they’re finally seated, Miyuki breathes out a sigh of relief and thanks the gods that he decided to come with; he’s a hundred percent certain Furuya would not survive the trip, considering that the pitcher is mostly in a quiet daze, like now, with his head in a pamphlet.

Pamphlet?

“Where did you get that?” Miyuki blinks.

Furuya raises his head slightly to respond. “I bought it,” he says, glancing to one of the staff walking around with a stack in her arms.

Miyuki cranes his head to peer at what’s inside; all he spots is that actor—Wada Takuma—face and body decked in catcher’s gear.

“You have a crush on him or something?” he asks, mostly joking, but when Furuya darts his eyes away and holds the pamphlet tighter defensively, he grins widely. “He’s twice your age, you know,” he continues airily. “It won’t work out.”

“I didn’t think it would, senpai,” Furuya replies.

“Ah, but you _thought_ about it, didn’t you?” he teases.

“Miyuki-senpai—“ Furuya starts, but the lights dim and the younger falls silent as Miyuki grins to himself.

He can literally _feel_ Furuya’s excitement when the curtains roll back. Furuya is quiet in his seat, but the pitcher is sitting tense and tight, not unlike how he was the other time when they were watching the first one.

The story continues, following the southpaw rookie in his highschool baseball team. Miyuki’s eyebrows furrow as he takes in the narrative—there’s a slight focus on the monster fastball pitcher, who struggles to pitch during a practice match. The catcher lets the pitcher wallow in confusion until the pitcher speaks out for help.

Miyuki snorts, it’s so mean, but there’s no denying he would’ve done that too; in fact, he’s pretty sure he’s done that to Furuya more than once, whoops.

The catcher on stage grins and laughs after a useful bit of advice, and Miyuki spies Furuya’s hands curling in his lap. Wow, Furuya really does have a crush on that actor. Meanwhile, the first year fastball pitcher frowns and stalks off the stage with a gloomy aura in response. There’s a flashback to a training camp for the third years, where Miyuki remembers how he died on _theirs_ , and some juicy drama between the brothers. There’s also a prickly relationship between the third year ace and the catcher, and then the ace gets hit by pitch during one of their matches; hey, isn’t that what happened _exactly_ to Tanba-san?

Miyuki suppresses his smile, mainly because he should not be amused about that incident, but it’s kind of funny how he’s seeing it in a different medium.

Further on, the team face up another rival school, this time with a pitcher who has deadly control and accuracy, like…clockwork.

“He pitches like that pitcher from Aikawa…Shunshin, wasn’t it?” Miyuki murmurs, mostly to himself.

Furuya’s too absorbed in the play to reply.

The fastball pitcher starts the game, but the rival team wears him out, which makes the other pitch with more force. It comes to a point where the coach calls for a change of pitchers—and the fastball pitcher stands stubborn on the mound, unwilling to give the ball up to his replacement, the first year southpaw.

“My god, he’s exactly like you,” Miyuki mutters.

Furuya grunts in dissent.

After a bit of coaxing from the team—mostly from the catcher who bluntly says that the other will drag them down if he continues to pitch, the pitcher drops the ball in the southpaw’s mitt and drags his feet away. The match goes on.

The loud southpaw does a surprisingly good job at preventing runs. They’re treated to the rival school’s pitcher’s backstory, a miserable tale on how it’s his last year to play thanks to his nationality. There’s a whole tense moment of silence while the sad music plays and Miyuki realises that the girl seated beside him is desperately trying to hold back her sobs—in fact, he’s sure the entire audience is, including Furuya who is watching with his hands covering his nose and mouth.

 _It’s sad but it’s not…that sad, right_ , Miyuki muses, vaguely hoping that Furuya won’t suddenly burst out into tears because he has no tissues on him at all.

Miyuki takes back those words about fifteen minutes later when the rival school loses (predictably), and the entire team is crying on the stage because they couldn’t bring their ace to Koshien. Miyuki wouldn’t say he cries, but dammit he’s felt the same frustration before when they lost to Inashiro by a hair’s width. The play then ends on a teaser of the next match the team will face.

While the theme song plays and the actors come on stage to bow, Miyuki takes the chance to wipe his face hastily, hoping that no one sees him. He claps particularly hard for the rival team pitcher, pausing for a second when the main team catcher, that _Wada Takuma_ comes on stage and grins as he waves, and Furuya does a small squeak from the back of his throat.

It’s so _unexpected_ —he’d never tag _Furuya_ to make a noise like that, and he can’t help but laugh as he continues clapping with the audience. If Furuya knows he’s laughing at him, the younger doesn’t say anything. After the curtain call the cast comes on stage again to participate in the main school’s cheer and they end the session in high spirits, with everyone’s pointer finger in the air and yelling.

“Miyuki-senpai,” Furuya tugs his sleeve when Miyuki just sits there, intending to let other people move out of the theatre first. “Let’s go.”

“It’s too crowded, let’s wait.”

“It’ll sell out if we don’t go first,” Furuya insists, tugging his sleeve again.

“What will sell out?” Miyuki blinks, hopping after Furuya who actually turns to move first. “Hey—! Don’t just walk off without me!”

* * *

 _Merchandise_ , is the answer, as Miyuki finds out while he’s being squeezed left, right and center in a massive crowd of _girls_.

Most of them are polite, but there’s still a bit of shoving and pushing to get to the front to see whatever goods that’s on sale. Furuya, for all his enthusiasm earlier, seems intimidated by the crowd and lags behind Miyuki who’s doing most of the queuing. Or maybe Furuya is just letting him take lead because he seems to know what he’s doing when surrounded with a lot of people.

“…Sir? Sir, what would you like?”

Miyuki snaps out of it when he hears his attention being called, tearing his eyes away from the girl next to him who reaches out to take stuff—photos? badges? shirts?— _a lot_ of things from the staff. _Wow, is she buying everything_ , he wonders, idly grabbing Furuya’s wrist to yank him to the front.

“It’s for him,” he says sweetly, nudging Furuya by the elbow to take the catalogue that the staff passes to them. “What did you want to get?” he asks, eyeing the goods.

Maybe he shouldn’t be so surprised, but he raises both eyebrows when Furuya points to every single photo—bromide, is that what they call it?—with _that_ catcher’s face on it, and some with the fastball pitcher. Miyuki guesses it’s the…similarity that brings the heart close.

“Miyuki-senpai, do you want anything?”

“Uh…a badge, maybe?” he says slowly, because since he’s here, he might as well get something to commemorate the occasion. “The one with the catcher.”

Since, well, _he’s_ a catcher.

“I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t choose the characters,” the staff puts in.

“What?”

“You can buy a maximum of five badges, all at random. If you don’t get one that you’re looking for, you can trade with anyone around here who is willing.”

“Oh,” Miyuki says, squinting at the catalogue again. How troublesome. “Then, it’s fine—“

“I’ll take five,” Furuya says over him, and Miyuki jerks his head to look at Furuya, who seems completely unfazed.

After Furuya pays, they squeeze themselves to somewhere quieter for Furuya to sort his things. It’s hard pressed to find a place like that in the area, but they walk a fair distance and up a few escalators before they get to a relatively deserted place. It’s just in time that Miyuki points to a seat near a sign to the toilets because Furuya drops everything in his arms the moment he reaches.

Miyuki hides his amused smirk as he bends to help Furuya pick up the bromides, careful not to crease them.  Furuya pulls out a clear plastic folder from his bag like he’s prepared for this…which he apparently is. After Furuya gently places the photos inside, the younger shifts through the badges that he received. Furuya gets one of the catcher, two of the fastball pitcher, and two of the southpaw.

“Miyuki-senpai,” Furuya says, holding out the badge with the catcher for him.

“Huh?”

“For you.”

“Isn’t he your favourite?” Miyuki says teasingly, waving his hand. “It’s fine, you can keep him.”

Furuya looks at the rest of his badges for a moment before taking the two extras that he has. “Then, please take these.”

“It’s fine, I don’t need them.”

“Please, Miyuki-senpai,” Furuya insists, blue eyes flickering to meet his. “For coming with me today.”

Miyuki eases a smile. “…I should be the one thanking you for the tickets,” he says, but takes the badges anyway. “Thanks.”

Furuya beams, shuffling to keep the rest of the badges into his clear folder.

“We should get back soon,” Miyuki says, glancing at his phone for the time. One hour train ride with multiple changes, joy. “Do you need to use to the toilet?”

Furuya nods.

“I’ll wait outside. Just leave your stuff here.”

Furuya nods again, standing up to stride down the corridor to disappear into the loo. Miyuki fiddles with the two badges Furuya gave to him in the meantime. One of them really kind of looks like Sawamura—Sawamura’s hair is a lighter brown and face much more annoying, but there’s a _feeling_ about it. The other is basically Furuya, maybe in another universe; the blank look, or rather, the blur daze that the pitcher is usually in.

He gets distracted when there’s a flurry of steps in his direction, and he nearly drops the badges when he realises _who_ it is, all decked out in a baseball uniform.

“…—Tomoki-kun? Tomoki-kun, are you still in the washroom?” Wada Takuma, _in the flesh_ , calls, jogging lightly towards where Miyuki is sitting. “Tomoki-kun!”

Perhaps the actor was unnerved by his staring, because Wada stops just before he enters the corridor to the toilets and gives him a sheepish glance. “Sorry, I was just wondering where my friend went.”

“Um,” is all Miyuki can really manage for a second. “Uh, it’s fine,” he replies, gaze flickering over the actor.

It’s kind of weird, but he notices that the elder is doing _exactly_ the same thing, albeit without glasses. And then Miyuki realises that the actor’s line of sight is resting on the clear plastic folder where Furuya keeps all his bromides, with the said person’s face in plain sight. Miyuki winces inwardly, shifting uncomfortably in embarrassment. It’s not his, but he’s sitting _with_ it.

“This is not what it looks like,” Miyuki blurts before he can stop himself.

Wada actually laughs out loud, and Miyuki curses himself inwardly.

“Sorry,” the actor coughs after a bit, hiding his grin behind a hand. “I’m just, I’m glad you enjoyed the show.”

“It belongs to my…junior,” Miyuki says, feeling the dire need to explain. “He’s in the toilet. I’m waiting for him.”

“Oh,” Wada smiles, dimples bright. “Well, did _you_ enjoy the show, then?”

“It was…yeah, I did,” Miyuki says finally, rubbing the back of his neck. “I play baseball, so…it’s a little...personal.”

“Oh,” Wada says again, blinking in surprise before giving him a small squint. “High school?”

Miyuki nods.

“What position?”

“Catcher.”

“The same as—“

“—you, yes I know,” Miyuki finishes.

It hits Miyuki then that he should be more polite—this man is nearly twice his age, dear god, and he’s never once said an honorific in the entire conversation. Except, a ‘sorry for being such an impudent youngster’ would be awkward as hell to say, so Miyuki continues slowly.

“We, uh—my school—we’re in Senbatsu next week. Coming here was kind of a treat from, and for, my junior. Because he’s the ace, and he _really_ doesn’t know how to take things easy before a match.”

The actor opens his mouth to reply, but Miyuki will never know what was to be said because another flurry of steps—two pairs, actually, one lagging behind—suddenly come up from behind Miyuki.

“Takuma! You wouldn’t believe who I met in the—…!”

Miyuki gapes a bit when the fastball pitcher’s actor—uh, Hirose Tomo…something—stops in front of them, holding Furuya’s wrist behind him. There’s an extremely long moment of silence as the other actor stares at Miyuki, and then back at Furuya, and then to his colleague.

“…He…kind of looks like you,” Wada finally says, eyebrows furrowed, peering at Furuya who shuffles his feet nervously and hides behind the other actor. “But younger.”

“Was that supposed to be an insult?” Hirose replies blandly, shifting his gaze to Miyuki. “Well, he—“

“I know. It’s kind of weird. He’s a catcher too, and—“

Miyuki suddenly feels very short amongst the other three who are standing while he is not.

“—he’s a pitcher!” Hirose inserts excitedly, gesturing to Furuya, almost bouncing on his heels. “An ace! Playing in Senbatsu next week! Congratulations again, Furuya-kun, and um…”

“…Miyuki Kazuya,” Miyuki supplies, eyeing Furuya from the corner of his eyes.

“—and Miyuki-kun,” Hirose finishes, smiling widely. “This is amazing. Oh, what school are you guys from?”

As Miyuki does the honour of divulging their details, he notices Furuya shyly flicking his gaze to Wada and playing with his fingers together. In turn, Wada looks like he’s listening but Miyuki is sure the other notices Furuya fidgeting, because when Hirose tells them that they’ll absolutely look out for them in Senbatsu, the other actor tilts his head sideways and steps closer.

“Does that belong to you?” Wada asks, pointing to the clear folder of bromides, still on display.

Furuya…well, Miyuki doesn’t have any other verb to describe the action, but Furuya actually _blushes_. “Um, yes.”

“Thank you for your support. I hope you enjoyed today’s show, Furuya-kun.”

Furuya nods hastily, too overwhelmed to speak.

Hirose playfully shoves his colleague. “You just had to be cool, didn’t you?”

“I’m just being polite,” Wada mutters, elbowing the other back. “Ah, shit, I forgot, we need to go, Tomoki-kun. The rest wanted a backstage photo before we all leave, you were the only one missing.”

Hirose covers his mouth. “Oh, sorry.”

“It’s fine, but we need to go before the rest kills me too,” Wada says absentmindedly. “It was nice meeting you two. Thanks for coming, and good luck with Senbatsu. We’ll be cheering for you guys.”

Hirose nods, smiling widely in agreement. “I hope to see you two at the next stage!”

“Hey, we’re not supposed to say anything about that yet!”

“Oh. Oh my god—“

“Shh!”

“Sorry,” Hirose smiles sheepishly. “Well, um, hope to see you two sometime soon!”

Miyuki waves after the two awkwardly, because Furuya is mostly in a state of shock to move. He scratches the back of his neck—what in the world, _honestly_ , that they’d run into Furuya’s favourite actor at the toilet.

Furuya, who’s still standing immovable and staring after the older two.

A thought hits Miyuki before he _really_ thinks about it.

“….—Wait, Wada-san! Hirose-san!” he calls, standing up quickly to chase after them. “Sorry, could I have just one more second?” he inhales to catch his breath. “Could you, um, sign something for Furuya? He’s a big fan, you see, and…and well, he’s…” he turns to look at the pitcher who’s still rooted to the spot. “…shy about asking.”

“Uh, okay,” Wada pats his pockets, but he comes up empty. “Do you have a marker, because I don’t...”

“I don’t either,” Hirose sighs, somehow sounding more disappointed.

Miyuki tries his own pockets even though he knows he didn’t bring any stationary.

“Hey, Furuya, you’ve got a marker?” he hurries back to his junior, who blinks rapidly. “They said they’ll sign you an autograph.”

Furuya digs through his bag but also comes up empty, god; Miyuki isn’t sure who’s more frustrated about the opportunity. Probably Furuya, but Furuya’s still in a starstruck daze, so the other doesn’t show it.

“Um, we can take a picture,” Hirose suggests, spying their expressions. “A quick one.”

Miyuki nods in full agreement, more or less shoving Furuya to stand between the other two actors. As he raises his phone to take the picture, he can’t help but snort that the complete blissed out look that’s on Furuya’s face.

“1…2…Furuya, stop looking at Wada-san and _smile_ , dammit,” Miyuki mutters, causing the other two actors to suddenly cough in laughter.

He did _not_ do that on purpose; Miyuki winces as Furuya immediately follows his order and looks at the camera obediently with red cheeks. Once the picture is done, he’s ready to apologise and thank the other two for their time when Hirose pushes Wada towards him.

“You too, Miyuki-kun.”

“Uhh…I don’t really…”

“No, _I_ want this picture,” Hirose clarifies, gesturing for Wada to stand closer as he positions his own phone properly. “Takuma, stop fidgeting!”

“You’re going to show everyone this later, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” Hirose answers honestly. “Okay, 1, 2, 3…it’s done!”

Miyuki barely gets his thanks out as the two actors wave hurriedly and run off, obviously pressed for time. Both he and Furuya stand rather blankly for a minute, before Miyuki remembers that their bags are still at the seats near the toilets. When he makes to move, however, Furuya suddenly grabs his hand.

“What is it?” he asks, turning back slightly.

Furuya grips his hand tighter.

“…Thank you, Miyuki-senpai,” the pitcher says very softly, face subsiding to a cute faint pink colour. “Thank you very much.”

Miyuki stares at him for a moment before smiling, almost edging to a smirk. “I want to see your forkball tomorrow.”

* * *

They get further than expected in Senbatsu, until they meet Furuya’s power pitcher match with Hongo Masamune from Komadai. Miyuki’s not really disappointed when they lose, of course, other than the _losing_ —because Furuya’s been _amazing_ all throughout Senbatsu, he can’t really ask for more from their first year pitcher.

Maybe it’s the motivation granted by the pitcher’s favourite actor, of which the younger would always look at the picture Miyuki took for him after the play whenever Miyuki finds him sitting alone with his phone.

It’s _cute_ , Miyuki guesses, that Furuya has a crush. Even if the crush is totally unfeasible, not even starting with the age difference. Miyuki shoves that thought out of his head. He shouldn’t be too mean about it. He takes it as lightly as Kuramochi’s lame crush on Sawamura’s childhood friend, until a week after Senbatsu ends and there’s a small package waiting for Furuya in the briefing room.

Usually packages that are sent to the school by mail to their dormitory address which they would have to go to the student office to collect, but apparently this package was dropped off _personally_ by someone at the school gate. There’s no name or return address other than Furuya’s name on it, which make it even more suspicious.

As most high school boys are, everyone is deadly curious about the package when Takashima hands it over to Furuya after debrief.

“Open, open, open!” Sawamura chants, and Furuya looks displeased that he’s stuck sitting surrounded by everyone in the team.

Miyuki lingers, because he’s also deniably curious. Maybe a present from a fan? Furuya has a lot of those after Senbatsu.

Furuya eases the slip open and pours out its contents on the table. A letter drops out first, and then two keystraps of a plastic polar bear holding a baseball mitt. There’s still something else inside; Furuya extracts a card enclosed in a slip of plastic. There’s a loud choking after a three second silence as everyone stares at the picture—well, photo, with a black inked signature at the bottom of it.

“…Isn’t that Miyuki?” someone says, Miyuki can’t tell who because he yelps.

“ _What_?” he stands up, eyeing the bromide. “That’s _not_ me!”

“It’s totally you, man,” Kuramochi says, swiping the bromide to squint at it harder. “You in a couple of years, maybe,” he hums, eyebrows pulled together. “Definitely you though. No one’s face is _this_ annoying. Why the fuck did you send Furuya a picture of yourself? Is this some weird confession route—”

Miyuki scrunches his face. “What the fuck are you—“

“I WANT TO SEE IT! KURAMOCHI-SENPAI, GIVE IT HERE!” Sawamura inserts, and a squabble over the photo starts.

Meanwhile, other half of the team leans to see what is written on the letter which Furuya has taken to reading silently.

“… _Dear Furuya-kun_ ,” Haruichi reads for the rest who keep hovering and shoving for a better look. “ _Congratulations and_ _thank you for your hard work in Senbatsu. Tomoki-kun and I watched all your matches backstage, they were really all very impressive. You pitched beautifully, and I’m sure Miyuki-kun is very proud of you_.”

Miyuki freezes at the mention of his name as everyone turns to stare at him.

“ _Tomoki-kun said you like polar bears; I think he read it off an interview you did, so here’s something from us for you and Miyuki-kun. Sorry we couldn’t stay longer the other time. I do, however, have a fan meet coming up soon. It’s a little embarrassing to ask, but I would like it if you could make it, and bring Miyuki-kun along too. We can chat again then. Thank you once again for your support…_ um, I can’t read his signature, _”_ Haruichi peers closer. “Oh, wait, it’s…Wada…Takuma…”

“Who _is_ that?”

“An actor,” Miyuki supplies for the general population in the briefing room. “A stage actor. He’s _not_ me, I told you!”

“How do _you_ know him?” Kuramochi raises an eyebrow.

“We watched a stage play a couple weeks ago, before Senbatsu,” Miyuki crosses his arms defensively. “He’s one of the actors. Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“…I didn’t know you were into that sort of thing,” Kuramochi says on behalf of the rest.

“It’s about baseball. It’s…not bad,” Miyuki says defensively. “Furuya has the DVD of the first instalment, you can ask him.”

Miyuki’s not sure if he should’ve shifted that responsibility to Furuya, but the younger seems to be pleasantly surprised by the growing interest, nodding when Toujo asks if they can borrow it to watch it too. A couple of them argue over when they want to watch it—it’s a bit late today, tomorrow’s an off day but some of them have plans—Miyuki takes the chance to escape out of the room before he gets dragged further into it.

He’s walking back to the dorms with his hands in his pockets when he hears Furuya calling out his name.

“Yeah?” he stops in his tracks, allowing the junior to catch up.

“Miyuki-senpai, it’s yours,” Furuya holds out one of the keystraps.

Miyuki eyes the plastic polar bear, taking it gingerly. “Thanks…I guess,” he tucks it into his pocket. “So, are you going to go for his…thing? The fan meet?”

“Will Miyuki-senpai—“ Furuya starts, but Miyuki already knows exactly what he’s asking.

“Depends,” Miyuki says, cutting him off. He smirks. “Can you lead us to win the Kanto Tournament?”

* * *

It’s mid tournament when it’s time for them to take the train into central Tokyo again for Furuya to meet his beloved actor. It’s really not the best time for them to be out having fun, but Furuya has been doing well so far—well, they haven’t lost—so Miyuki has to keep up on his side of the promise, even if technically, they haven’t won the tournament.

Furuya is way more fidgety this time on route, adjusting his cardigan and occasionally checking if the gift bag he brought along is in good condition. Miyuki has no idea what Furuya brought to give the actor, and then he realises that he didn’t bring a gift. But he’s here to _accompany_ Furuya more than anything, so he feels much less guilty than he should.

When they get to their destination, Miyuki looks around them and sighs, because everyone else is a female, _again_. Ugh, he feels so weird being here in a mass of people excited to meet Wada. Which he is…not…really. It’s cool and everything that he met a relatively (?) famous actor, but Miyuki can’t count himself as a big fan, unlike Furuya who clutches his jacket sleeve and drags him to get in line to enter the building quickly.

They get ushered to a room with a small stage. Everyone is so charged up and nervous around him, Miyuki sighs and resigns himself to his fate since he agreed to come. After a short moment when everyone’s seated, an MC comes to the front and invites the person they’ve been waiting for on stage.

Miyuki hears the little squeak from Furuya again when Wada appears, though it could’ve came from the girl beside him—or _anyone else_ around him—but it’s still likely, given that he can literally see the light beaming out of Furuya’s face. He shakes his head, flickering his gaze to the actor in front who meets eyes with him and smiles in recognition.

The fan meet isn’t as bad as Miyuki expects.

He thought there’d be more...fan service…of the sort, which there is, apparently, when the girls around them giggle but whatever it is, it’s mostly lost on Miyuki. Wada talks mostly about his on-going projects and performances, takes some questions from the audience, and also asks some questions to his fans, which seems rather nice like he’s interested in engaging with them. Two hours pass by quickly—before he knows it, the MC is thanking Wada for his time and the actor is bowing to them for their time.

There’s a disappointed murmur that runs through the crowd as they are thanked once more, with a reminder that those who bought a ticket with a photo opportunity to stay behind. Miyuki didn’t, but he knows Furuya did, so he stays behind with the other.

Who is…trembling slightly.

In anticipation? Nervousness?

Miyuki has _never_ seen Furuya nervous before a baseball match, this is weird—and oddly cute—as hell.

“Furuya, you okay? Come on, you’ve got to get in line.”

Furuya nods, clutching the gift bag he brought along. “Um, yes.”

Miyuki hides his chuckle when Furuya stands and stumbles. “Hey, take it easy. Wada-san was really nice the other time, right? It’ll be fine.”

Furuya nods again, faster this time. Miyuki is mildly worried that Furuya will trip over thin air being in a daze like that, but he lets Furuya join the queue on his own and hangs back nearer to the exit of where they’re setting up the photoshoot. Wada apparently notices him and actually _comes over_ to him after speaking with a couple of the staff nearby; Miyuki had a faint thought in his head to _run_ , but he’s not sure why.

“Hey, I’m glad you could make it, Miyuki-kun,” the actor grins, smile wide and bright. “Oh and congratulations again. I heard you guys made it to the best four in the Spring Tournament.”

“Oh,” he replies, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. “Thank you very much.”

“In the middle of the Kanto Tournament now, aren’t you? Sorry I had to have this meet during an important time.”

“Furuya would’ve skipped a match for you, I’m sure,” Miyuki says, though he’s not _that_ sure.

Does Furuya love pitching more than this man? He needs to ask Furuya later.

Wada laughs. “Oh no, I’ll definitely tell him he shouldn’t,” he replies easily, glancing over to where a staff is waving for his attention to come back to the photoshoot area. “Ah, I have to go. Thanks for coming!”

“No…problem…” Miyuki trails off, hand back to scratching the back of his neck.

He’s not really sure why he feels out of place and weird around the actor—the older has been nothing but nice to him; maybe it’s just Kuramochi’s comment about their similar looks. Maybe. Miyuki will deny it, but it’s secretly unnerving that he…agrees with Kuramochi, just a little bit. _Maybe_ in ten, fifteen years, he’ll look like Wada-san.

 _Does Furuya like older men_ , is the next thought that passes through Miyuki’s mind, and he chokes, coughing loudly to clear it. He did say he wouldn’t be mean about Furuya’s crush.

There’s a fair bit of people before it’s Furuya’s turn, and Wada seems to take his time to listen to whatever his fans have to say. Miyuki tunes out, fiddling with his phone and replying Kuramochi’s texts: ‘no I will _not_ take a photo with Wada-san, stop saying he’s me, yes he does fucking exist’, until finally it’s Furuya who steps forward with his gift.

Furuya speaks way too softly for Miyuki to overhear; he spies Wada stepping closer to accommodate the volume and Furuya shuffling back slightly, overwhelmed until Wada clasps Furuya on the shoulder to hold him right there.

 _Furuya must be dying on the inside_ , Miyuki snickers, secretly taking a photo of the other two with his phone.

The other two talk for a bit more, with Furuya relaxing and speaking louder as time goes by. Finally, Wada places Furuya’s gift on the table with the rest and asks what pose he’d like him to do in their photo.

If Miyuki was drinking water, he would’ve spat it right out because this is what Furuya says, loud enough for him to hear:

“Can you catch my pitch for me?”

Ever game, Wada just smiles and nods. “Ah, but it’s a bit difficult to capture it in this area. Hold on a second,” he muses, stepping forward to discuss it with the camera man.

Miyuki finds it hard to swallow all of a sudden.

Wada-san is…sure, fine, he’s a catcher in that baseball play, but…but Miyuki’s his _actual_ catcher. Is he not doing a good enough job that Furuya wants a _character_ to catch for him? The idea is absurd, but he numbly watches Wada usher Furuya on the stage where they have a larger area for the camera man to capture their poses. Furuya stands on one side, hands together and leg raised like he’s seriously pitching his signature fastball. Furuya visibly takes a deep breath, pitches like he’s on the mound—and Wada is on his knees, hand raised out like in a mitt to catch it smoothly.

“Nice ball,” Wada says, and Furuya freezes, face in a state of open mouthed wonder.

Miyuki’s seen that expression before, towards _him_ , when he caught Furuya’s pitch for the very first time. He clenches his fist and turns away, unable to ignore the dark bitter taste at the back of his mouth. It takes a moment for him to recognise what it is—after Furuya bows repeatedly to Wada and eventually makes his way to where Miyuki is waiting, cheeks flushed happily and eyes sparkling so bright that Miyuki swivels on his heel so that he doesn’t have to look at the other.

He’s jealous.

He’s fucking _jealous_.

Of an actor who has _his face_.

What the hell.


End file.
